


The Realization of Marcus Brutus

by Alice_Kirkland



Category: Julius Caesar - Shakespeare
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 06:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8653744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alice_Kirkland/pseuds/Alice_Kirkland
Summary: Brutus is enduring hell in a Senate that doesn't him there. But when Cassius speaks up, things seem to be getting a little better.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Literally found this on my computer and thought it was awesome. It's an under appreciated tag, so I thought I would add to it. I just don't know when it'll update, if it updates. Enjoy!

For all that Brutus loved politics, and for all that Brutus loved Rome, he really disliked the Senate. It was filled with empty promises of reform and false hopes, covering the behinds of every old man in the room who were simply hoarding the tax money paid by the poor, peasant population. But Brutus wanted the change, he craved it. He believed that every Roman should have a say in the Republic. And though they were not there yet, Brutus would sit and endure this farce for Rome, and for the people.   

Walking inside the Senate building, Brutus was greeted with the sight of a handful of Senators milling about he front room before they were to go to the private meeting room. When his footfalls were made known to the others all eyes were on him peering, probing as if they could see right through him, and see all of his regrets. Head bowed so his hair fell in his face, Brutus walked past the nosy Senators and proceeded into meeting room for the day. 

The room itself was pasty white like almost every building in Rome. A large, round table sat in the very center of the room, with enough chairs to seat all of the almost one hundred Senators that composed the ruling faction of the Republic. Brutus took his seat close to the head of the table, and put the few papers he had brought with him on the table and pretended to shuffle through them.

It was not long after that Caesar had arrived in his full, pompous glory to the table, Marc Antony following shortly behind like a loyal dog.

 

“Take your seats, the meeting is about to begin,” Caesar called airily as he took his own seat, the Senators filing in quickly after him.

 

The meeting itself was deathly boring. This and that being argued over, like children who could not decide who should have the first turn. Staring down determinedly at his papers, he was shocked out of his trance when he heard Antony keening like a bitch in seat left of Caesar. While some may miss the blush staining his face and the low-pitched whines he made in the back of his throat, it was not hard for Brutus to tell _just_ what Caesar was doing to his new favorite play toy. Caesar shot him a poignant look as he not only continued speaking to the rest of the Senate, but also continued on with Antony.

 

_‘Maybe that is why they are in a craze for him, his multitasking skills are certainly on point,’_ Brutus thought dryly to himself at the sheer hilarity of the situation.

 

Only he could not find true humor in this situation. After _that day_ , he was no longer taken seriously among the Senators. For Pluto’s sake, _he_ could barely look at himself anymore without seeing his mistake! Especially not when the Romans he once thought of as colleagues never failed to remind him of it everyday, and certainly not when Caesar decided to adopt this sort of mood. It was all to make Brutus squirm, to make him feel shameful for walking out that day. But Brutus has not, _will_ not give in to _this,_ of all things. 

~

 

“My fellow Senators, I feel that we have discussed quite enough today. Enjoy yourselves, the evening is young yet,” Caesar cooed, as if he had a band of school children listening to the instruction of their favorite teacher. 

 

With that dismissal, Brutus did not need to be asked twice to jump from his seat, gather his papers, and hurry out the door. He left the building with a swiftness that rivaled battle horses, and began to walk with no clear direction in mind. The streets of his beloved city began to meld and swirl together in his mind as he continued on, and before he knew it, he was at Pompey’s Porch. Stilling, he looked up at the statue of a great man who was reduced to ash under Caesar’s foot. It was not so unrealistic, then to think, that one day, someone might also reduce Caesar to nothing more than an ant. 

 

“Brutus, my friend, it is a wonder that I could have caught up to you at all, at the speed that you were going!”

 

Brutus turned to see Caius Cassius walking toward him with his usual, confident gait. 

 

“What do you wish to ask of me, Cassius?” inquired Brutus flatly, with one eyebrow raised. 

 

“I just wished to query of your well-being. You did not look well in the Senate.”

 

_‘Well at least I know I made it quite well known.’_

 

“And then, well, you know what _day_ today is.”

 

That struck a chord with Brutus. Today was _the_ day. His beloved late wife, Portia, committed suicide by swallowing hot coals two years prior. She became pregnant with her first child. They were _so_ happy, she had been so brilliant, like her own bright star in the middle of Brutus’ galaxy. But seven months into the pregnancy, Portia had given birth to a stillborn baby boy in July. They named him Vitus Iulius Brutus, and he was buried in the family graveyard. After that night Portia was never quite the same. Brutus suffered in silence along with her for a time, but he recovered. One day, he returned home to find her covered in her own blood, Lucius standing over her in hysterics. Since then, the galaxy of Brutus’ life has never been quite as bright. The void she left, he believed, would always remain with him. 

 

“-tus, Brutus? I’m sorry, I should not have said anything. Please-“

 

“It is fine, Cassius. I have no ill will towards you for that,” Brutus said turning to look at him.

 

“In fact, I thank you.”

 

“For what, may I inquire?” Cassius asked in disbelief.

 

“For saying something, when all else have remained silent.”

 

With that, Brutus turned and left Pompey’s Porch with as much of an even stride as possible. He may deny it later, but the smile tugging on the corners of his mouth was the first time, in a long time, it was a real one. 

 


End file.
